


A Flight of Fancy

by Million_Moments



Category: Death in Paradise, Miranda (TV)
Genre: Cousins, F/M, Family, Humor, Not a masterpiece, Romance, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written because we all need a little silliness in our lives. Miranda panics and does a runner...to Saint Marie. Set post Miranda series 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flight of Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> I have never used the exclamation mark so much in my life. Another warning for complete and utter silliness! It’s hardly a masterpiece, but it was fun to write.

Nobody could cast a shadow across a doorway like Miranda, except perhaps the Commissioner, but Richard wasn’t expecting him today. So when the doorway of the station darkened and a familiar voice called out, “ _Helllloooooo!_ ” he knew exactly who it was.

Dwayne and Camille had looked up curiously at the greeting. Both seemed more than a little bemused by the tall woman who struggled through the doors with two suitcases and a shoulder bag. One case caught the edge of a desk as she moved towards Richard and she ended up dragging it along for a considerable distance before Dwayne intercepted and took the bags from her.

“Hello, Miranda,” Richard said, hoping he was keeping the resignation out of his tone. He actually quite liked his cousin, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t expecting considerable embarrassment and woe to come from her visit.

“You’re not surprised!” She cried, looking disappointed. “Why aren’t you surprised?”

“Aunt Penny rang and said that she believed you might have taken a flight of panic after certain…events,” He explained.

“It wasn’t a flight of panic, it was, a, a, it was a flight of _fancy_! I just decided I _fancied_ seeing my favourite cousin and in an act of spontaneity, a flight of fancy if you will, got on a plane to Saint Marie!” He decided to just accept her protest, even though it was utter rubbish. He didn’t really think being referred to as her ‘favourite’ cousin was that much of a compliment either, considering her other cousin thought he was a squirrel half of the time. “Did Mum say anything else?” She asked warily.

“Well she asked if I was still single –“

“I think I can see what is coming here.”

“And then asked if I would consider having you since you managed to mess up not one, but two marriage proposals.” Camille and Dwayne, who were keeping remarkably quiet, were both wearing shocked expressions at this last statement. Miranda and Richard caught them and said at the same time. “It’s not going to happen!”

“Oh,” Miranda continued, somehow seeming to physical deflate. Richard felt quite sorry for her really, Aunt Penny might have imagined two proposals were flattering but he could see how it would be really rather stressful if you weren’t expecting it. “I suppose it _was_ a bit of a flight of panic. You aren’t mad me turning up unannounced, are you?”

“No, its fine,” he said honestly. Then suddenly realised she might actually being expecting to stay with him. At his tiny little bungalow. Oh God, the horror, she would probably accidentally step on Harry! “You have somewhere to stay, right?” He asked hopefully.

“Oh yes, I’m booked into a lovely hotel. I love a hotel room, you know!” Miranda told him excitedly. “I suppose I should go there and drop off all of my bags. But wait!” She cried, seemingly realising at last she was not alone in the station with Richard. “You haven’t introduced me to anyone! I’m Miranda.”

She offered her hand to Camille first, who took it politely and with a smile said, “Camille Bordey. _Enchantée_.”

“ _You’re_ _French_!” Miranda cried, seemingly delighted. “Richard didn’t mention you were French. You’re a beautiful, sophisticated, French lady!” Richard desperately hoped Camille didn’t notice that fact Miranda recognised her name. “The French are very _romantic_ aren’t they? I bet you’d know _exactly_ what to do in my situation. Oh, I know, you could be my new best friend! My new French best friend who advises me on what to do!” She leaned forward and said, voice lowered, “What should I do?”

Camille was looking a little overwhelmed, even with Miranda leaning over she was still dwarfed by her. Richard considered stepping in to rescue her but she eventually managed to reply, “Um, I may need a few more details first.”

“Wise,” Miranda said, drawing the word out. “Don’t want to be giving any advice without properly being briefed first!”

At that moment, Fidel returned from his patrol of the market place. He paused in the doorway, clearly a little surprised by the sight before him. Miranda seemed equally taken aback by Fidel. “Hello, oh, you’re nice – I mean, I am sure you _are_ nice. Are you a Constable, no wait, you are a Sergeant, I can tell from your stripes!” She reached out to indicate the stripes, but didn’t stop at just that – she happened to give his shoulder a little squeeze. “Oh, that’s nice, sorry, can I just do that again?” And she did. Richard perched on the edge of his desk and covered his face with his hands. Perhaps there was a chance this was all a dream? Fidel was staring at Miranda in alarm, and she suddenly fully comprehended what she was doing. “Right, sorry, bit inappropriate. You aren’t going to arrest me for assault are you?”

“Maybe I should take you to your hotel!” Richard said loudly, in an effort to end the introductions and prevent further humiliation for either him or Miranda. He risked a glance at Camille, who was watching the exchange leaning against her desk, long legs crossed and trying desperately to smother her amusement. For a minute his gaze lingered, then he realised he was supposed to be trying to _prevent_ further embarrassment so he took one of Miranda’s cases in one hand, grabbed her arm with the other, and hurried her from the building.

 

* * *

 

 

Miranda hadn’t bought the hotel confirmation with her, and proved incapable of remembering the place where she was staying. She put in a phone call to somebody called Stevie, who promised to go up to her flat and search for the print out when she shut up shop. He took her for a cup of tea at Catherine’s whilst they waited for the return phone call, though Miranda actually ordered a massive cocktail.

“Ohhh, this is nice isn’t it, sitting in a bar, on an island, with a cocktail! I feel all sort of sophisticated. Sophisticated. Good word.”

“Miranda,” he said, beginning a conversation he didn’t really want to have. Camille probably would be a much more suitable candidate to counsel Miranda than he was, but he was a little nervous about leaving those two in a room together. Camille would be very likely to get things out of Miranda about him he would _really_ rather she didn’t know. He also felt a certain amount of duty to, if not necessarily advise his cousin, at least attempt to be a ‘shoulder to cry on’. Though he hoped she didn’t start crying, because he quite liked this shirt and she would likely ruin it. “What _are_ you going to do? Do you have any idea?”

She looked despondent, “Oh I don’t know, I don’t want to marry either of them!”                                  

“Well you don’t have to,” he told her, a little puzzled by what the issue was then.

She gave him an incredulous look, “Have you met my mother?”

“Yes, I have, but forced marriage is a crime you know, Miranda.”

“Are you offering to arrest my Mother?” She looked like it would be an offer she would be sorely tempted by.  

“That’s not quite what I meant,” he hurried to try and explain. The last thing he wanted was his Aunt Penny to find out he had accidentally offered to charge her for criminal acts. He had horrible images of his Aunt being a little too keen on the handcuffs, and relating an inappropriate story regarding how she had used them in the past.

“And that’s not what I meant, not really, because though I don’t want to marry either of them it doesn’t mean that I don’t love Gary! I’m terrified I’ll hurt him so much when I turn him down he won’t want to be with me anymore, but look at me Richard, I’m not ready to get _married_.”

“Well why can’t you just tell him that? It sounds quite sensible, I am sure he would understand.”

“Oh, like it’s that easy! I’ll just trip over my words and end up saying something incredibly offensive or accidentally proposing to a complete stranger or, most likely, singing some sort of show tune.”

“Yeah, your rendition of _Memories_ is certainly seared into mine,” Miranda looked like she was about to give him a repeat performance, so he continued quickly. “But seriously, you just managed to explain it to me, can’t you just use those exact same words with Gary?”

“Oh well if you think it’s so easy to tell somebody how you feel, why don’t you tell Camille you fancy the pants off her then?” She exploded, completely blindsiding him. How on earth did she know that?

“I don’t!” He quickly denied, very aware of how loud Miranda’s voice was and exactly who the proprietor of the bar they were currently in was. Catherine was out of sight and he also prayed out of ear shot. “Why on earth would you think that?” he hissed.

“Oh _please_ , when you were last home she was all you could talk about! Camille this and Camille that, my Mother kept elbowing me and whispering that if I wanted a chance with you I better get a move on!” They both grimaced, and Richard found himself eternally grateful that his mother would only suggest a woman to him once – if he rejected the suggestion that was the end of the matter. Aunt Penny on the other hand…

“Well we work together, it would be natural that I would talk about her.”

“Oh yeah, well I didn’t hear that much about young Fidel…” She trailed off, looking wistful for a moment. “He really is _lovely_. Anyway, I didn’t hear much about Fidel and Dwayne. And not to mention the way you were looking at her! That’s right, I saw you looking at her and your gaze _lingered_ on those lovely French legs of hers! You know her face is up here, right?” Miranda indicated her own visage, then seemed to realise her mistake. “Well, obviously not here _here_ because that is my face, not Camille’s face. That would be weird, Camille’s face on my body, can you imagine it?” He didn’t want to. “Anyway, this is all beside the point, you _do_ fancy her! Can I have another cocktail please?”

Richard was about to agree, thinking if he got her drunk she might fall asleep and thus be quiet, but then to his horror he realised she wasn’t talking to him – she was addressing Catherine who had just arrived at their table. “I think Richard probably needs one as well. Perhaps the alcohol would make him brave enough to tell Camille how he feels!”

For the second time that day, Richard buried his face in his hands. From between his fingers he said, “Miranda, have you met Catherine, Camille’s mother?”

There was a moment of silence in which he imagined Miranda was processing that information. He couldn’t be sure, because he hadn’t quite gotten up the courage to uncover his face yet. “Right, no, well obviously Richard and I were just having a little joke, there! It would be _ridiculous_ for Richard too fancy Camille, I’m sure you would agree.” He heard her tell Catherine.

“Why would it be ridiculous?” Catherine asked. “Are you saying my daughter is not attractive?”

At this point, Richard knew his humiliation was complete, so looked up in time to see Miranda looking flustered as she answered, “No, no, your daughter is _very_ attractive! In fact, if I were a lesbian, I would probably fancy her as well.”

“Good,” Catherine said, one eyebrow raised. “Now I shall get you another cocktail.” She leaned towards Miranda and said conspiratorially, “And don’t worry, I already knew Richard, ah, ‘fancied her pants off’ as you put it.”

“Oh God,” Richard groaned. “Do you think I could have your return ticket to London?”

“And I’ll stay here and solve crimes in your place?” Miranda suggested brightly.

Richard frowned, he found that image a little disturbing, “Ok, perhaps not.”

“I know! We could do a deal, I will tell Gary how I feel if you tell Camille how _you_ feel.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? You can work out what to say now and practise it. Then you can just memorise it, walk up to her and tell her. Come on, what would you say?”

Richard shook his head, exasperated, “Listen, Miranda, I don’t know what Romantic Comedy you think you are living in but the chances of me walking up to my Detective Sergeant and calmly declaring ‘Camille, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and oh by the way I love you, let’s run off into the sunset together!’ is zero.”

Miranda gave a small smile, “The kind where the man doesn’t realise the woman can hear him when he confesses his love.”

He frowned, sure now that Miranda had completely lost it, “What?”

“That is the sort of Romantic Comedy I think I am living in. The kind where the man doesn’t realise the woman can hear him when he confesses his love.” Realisation dawned slowly, and he turned around to find his suspicions were correct – Camille was standing there looking a little shell-shocked. “I think I’ll take my cocktail inside the bar!” Miranda declared, before making a subtle exit. Well, what Richard was sure was meant to be a subtle exit, if she hadn’t somehow managed to get her long skirt caught under the table leg at some point so that she stood she ended up wrenching a considerable tear in it.  “It’s okay,” she reassured them, as she backed away slowly holding the tear closed in an attempt to preserve her dignity. “It just adds a nice extra breeze!”

Camille watched Miranda retreat inside with a look of consternation, and then calmly walked over to sit opposite him. “Your cousin is as… _unique_ as you are,” she told him.

“Yes, well, I believe you already postulated that social awkwardness may be hereditary. You can add this to your growing pile of evidence.” He couldn’t look at her for more than a few milliseconds at a time, so terrified was he of her reaction to his unintentional declaration of love.

“I’ve also said that I quite like it. In fact, in some people, I might actually love it.” Filled with a sudden surge of hope, he looked up. She was watching him carefully. “Did you mean what you said? I mean, was it something you’d _actually_ want to tell me – irrespective of if you ever would have?”

Well, he guessed now was as good as time as any to start being brave, “Yes.” He wanted to add something articulate and romantic on the end of that, but wasn’t able to.

Camille was smiling, that had to be a good sign, right? Then she suddenly stood, leaned across the table and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Which was unmistakably a good sign.

“YAY!” Shouted a voice from nearby, causing them to shoot apart and look round in surprise. The shout of joy had come from Miranda, “Oops, sorry, I wasn’t being a pervert or a voyeur or anything. I just happened to look up from my cocktail and, um, notice the kissing and…You’re going to arrest me, aren’t you?”

“Not if you go back in the bar immediately and direct all of your attention to drinking that concoction.” Miranda disappeared obediently. When he turned back to Camille she was giving him a chiding look. “What? I want to kiss you again and would rather do so without my cousin watching!”

“Oh well,” she said, circling the table. He stood instinctively when she reached him. “That’s ok then.”

A few moments later, Richard would have to admit he wouldn’t have noticed if an entire armed infantry unit had marched past them…

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t see Miranda again until the next evening. She had apparently received the phone call with her hotel details from Stevie whilst he and Camille were…distracted and had dutifully disappeared off. Unfortunately she hadn’t left him any sort of message about where she was staying. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t be difficult to locate, not many women on the island would fit her description if he were to put it about. Richard didn’t do so straight away because he thought she may need some time to herself, to consider her own romantic predicaments.

She turned up at Catherine’s when he was in there with Camille for his usual post-work cup of tea. She was looking more than a little sunburnt but otherwise seemed happy enough. He still winced in sympathy at the burns though.

“I was in the shade,” she explained after Camille enquired if she was okay. “But then I fell asleep and the sun moved!”

“Did you call Gary?” He decided to get right to the point. She had tricked him into confessing his feelings, and he couldn’t be happier, and he was determined that she now do the same.

“No,” she said, looking miserable enough that he almost regretted bringing the subject up.

“You can’t put it off forever!” He chided her.

She sighed, “You’re right. I shall call him now.” She fished her phone out of her bag and began to scroll through her contacts.

“Not now!” He cried. “It’s the middle of the night in the UK.”

For some reason, this pleased Miranda, “Perfect, I can leave him a voice mail. So much less awkward then having to actually talk to him.”

“You can’t do that!” Richard said, grabbing the phone quickly from her. “Some things need to be done in person. And if not in person than, well, at least in real time!”

“Richard is right, Miranda,” Camille said gently. She glanced down at the phone, spotted the image that was on it. “Oh, is that Gary? He is handsome!” Richard stared at her. “What, just because I think he’s handsome doesn’t mean I don’t love you!” He supposed that was true, but it didn’t mean he had to _like_ it.

“He _is_ handsome! Oh I love him so much! How will I ever tell him without getting flustered and messing it all up?”

“Well we’ll use the same technique you prescribed for me. Work it all out before hand. You had half an idea of what to say yesterday, so let’s work the entire thing out. What do you want to say to Gary?” Camille was elbowing him in the side, but he grabbed her hand and used it to hold her arm still. She took the hint rather well.

“Right, here goes.” She closed her eyes as if she was imagining the scene playing out. “Gary, I love you so much, and I want to be with you – I do. More than anything. But I am not ready to marry you yet. Please don’t think of it as a rejection, think of it as a rain check, because I am certain that one day I will be ready to be married – and you’ll be the one I’ll want to marry.”

“And I’ll want to marry you then, as well.” Miranda spun around in her seat to find a very tired looking Gary standing behind her. Richard hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he had walked in, clearly Miranda _did_ live in a Romantic Comedy. Well if it had worked for him and Camille, why not her and Gary?

“Gary,” she breathed. “What are you doing here? How did you even know where I was?”

“Well, when you rang Stevie for the hotel details you weren’t the only one she told. I went straight there but you obviously weren’t there. I was going to wait when then I remembered how your cousin was a police officer so went to the station, and well, they directed me here. But do you know what the important bit is?”

“No?”

“I love you. And that is what I should have said, not ‘will you marry me’ but, ‘I love you’. Because it is the most important bit, the thing that matters the most.”

“Oh Gary,” Miranda stood up and practically threw herself at the man, and the pair of them began a passionate embrace in the middle of the bar.

Richard really didn’t know where to look, especially when it appeared the pair of them had no intention of letting up. “It’s a bit awkward really,” he said to Camille. “I mean, don’t they realise they are in a public place? There _are_ decency laws.”

“Richard, after yesterday, I don’t think you can really talk.”

“We were outside and away from other customers…for the most part.” Camille looked like she was about to disagree, but Richard was saved from further argument by Miranda and Gary finally broke their kiss.

Beaming excitedly, Miranda turned around and pointed at Richard, proclaiming, “When we do get married you can totally be a bridesmaid!” Camille started giggling, whilst Richard just stared at Miranda until she realised her mistake. “Wait, no, not a bridesmaid. Something much more manly…a brides…groom, no wait that is what Gary would be. Um…bridesman?”

“An usher will be fine, thank you, Miranda.”

“Yes! An usher! Why didn’t I think of that? Now, let’s all have some cocktails!”

**Author's Note:**

> Found it particularly difficult to find an ending for this, so I ended it with BOOZE!


End file.
